Thanks, Doc
by ChemiToo
Summary: America and Canada are worried when England doesn't come home on time. Big bro England and his adorable colonies. :)


America frowned worriedly as he looked out the window. All he could make out was his reflection in the panes of warped glass, the black night glaring in at him. It was cold, winter having long settled in and causing his house to creak and pop. It scared the daylights out of him, though he'd never admit it.

"See him yet?" Canada asked as his round face peeked over his brother's shoulder.

"Nuh-uh," America answered, shaking his head.

He should have been back by now, though. He had just left to go talk with France, something about signing a treaty so Canada could live with him and America from now on. America was greatly excited about this-having a brother to play with was awesome! Not that England wasn't fun or anything, he just... sometimes he just wasn't very...well, fun.

"Maybe he and Papa had a fight," Canada whispered, clutching the bear in his arms tightly. It squeaked, but didn't attempt to escape.

America paused at that. France and England weren't exactly "friends," the past years being filled with their constant battles. And it wasn't just France, America came to find out after England had been talking in his sleep. Other nations in some place called Europe were rising up against him too, some guy named "Austria" being one of the names he mumbled out the most often as he fitfully tossed and turned.

He frowned. He couldn't say that he _liked_ France, but he didn't hate him like England seemed to. Canada liked him well enough, though. He said he was a great cook, and that he taught him French and how to hunt and set traps. England taught America many things as well, though, like how to read and write (in the _King's_ English, thank you very much), how to track wild game, how to read and interpret maps. And he read him stories at night before bedtime, when he wasn't too tired. Tales from his native land, accounts of battles and castles and all kinds of things America could only dream of. America loved those nights, though they were less and less frequent as of late.

"Do you...he's coming back, right?" Canada asked quietly, chewing on his lower lip in the reflection of the window.

"Y-yeah, he's fine!" America insisted with a loud laugh as he clapped a hand on Canada's shoulder, "Don't worry, Bro! He probably just got tied up at the meeting or something!"

"With _Papa_ ," Canada pointed out with a raised brow.

"Well...yeah," America faltered, turning back toward the black window. He half-expected England's smiling face to be peering at him from the other side, green eyes twinkling as he tapped on the glass and pretended to be grumpy until America let him in. But...

Oh no.

America's frown deepened as he clenched his fists.

What if he and France had come to blows again? England had gone under the premise of the negotiations being peaceful, but that could easily change. What if things had gotten violent? What if this time-?

He jumped and Canada yelped as a loud thunk erupted from the front door.

The twins looked at one another only briefly before dashing toward it.

"England!" America shouted with a bright smile as he threw the door open.

But no one was there.

America hesitantly stepped onto the front porch, squinting into the darkness as Canada crept cautiously behind him. The bear wiggled out of his grasp and moseyed back into the warm house, not at all pleased with the idea of going out into the cold.

"W-where is he?" Canada asked with a shudder.

"I don't know," America admitted as an unpleasant feeling crawled down his neck, "England?!" he cried into the wilderness. The wind howled at him, tossing flecks of snow into his face.

He whirled around as a low moan sounded from his right. Something-or rather, someone-was slumped against the house on the snowy porch.

"England!" he and Canada cried in horror as they dragged him inside. England mumbled something that America couldn't make out as he slammed the door closed and threw the lock.

"What happened?!" America cried.

"Are you all right?!" Canada shouted.

"Hullo, boys," England greeted with a weak grin, crouching into a sitting position with a poorly-disguised cringe. He slumped tiredly against the wall, extending his arms out.

America and Canada leapt into them, squeezing him tightly.

A small, sharp sound passed England's lips. America had heard his dog make that noise once, when he had sprained his paw and tried to put weight on it.

He lurched away from the older nation as Canada followed suit.

"No, it's all right-" England tried to reassure them.

"No it's not," Canada insisted with a studious frown, "You're hurt,"

"It's not that bad, you two, really," England wheezed with a false smile as he slid up the wall in an attempt to stand, "I'll be right as rain as soon as I-" he cut himself off with a yelp, hunching over and clutching his side.

America grabbed his arm and yanked him into the living room, while Canada pushed him from behind. England protested, grumbling all the way, but seemed to lack the energy to put up a fight. This worried America greatly. He hadn't been this bad in a long time.

"All right, let's see it," America demanded as he plunked England onto the sofa.

"...see what?" England asked blearily.

"You got an injury somewhere. I gotta bandage it up," America stated frankly as he reached forward and yanked on England's shirt.

"Oi!" England exclaimed as he smacked his hands away, "Stop it! I said I'm fine!"

"You're lying," America pointed out, turning to his brother, "Canada? Back me up?"

"Right," Canada answered with a resolute nod.

"W-wait, what are you-STOP IT!" England whined as Canada restrained his arms. America noted that he shouldn't have been able to hold him in place so easily as he tugged the bottom of England's shirt out of his pants and pulled it upward.

An ugly purple blotch was on England's right ribcage, crowned with a small trickle of dried blood. It was starkly dark against England's porcelain white skin, marring it terribly, in America's opinion. It pulsed in-time with the beating of his heart, with each shallow breath. It looked incredibly painful, America figured. Other small lines crisscrossed over what of his skin was exposed, some more obvious than others. America never asked about them, but England had a _lot_ of scars.

"Oh, no," Canada muttered as he released England's wrists.

"What happened to you?" America whispered, setting his jaw, "Who _did this_ to you?" he demanded as anger welled within him. He'd find whoever did it, all right. He may be small, but he was pretty strong. England had told him so himself.

"Was it _France_?" he growled as England blinked at him. Canada shuffled uncomfortably from beside him, obviously torn.

"America, as thankful as I am for your concern, I am perfectly all right," England said calmly as he tugged his shirt back down over his bruise, "And no, it was not France. Some of his...supporters decided that they didn't like the terms set in the treaty, and...well, things got a tad out of hand," he explained with a frown.

"Oh," America blurted, unclenching his fists, "But they still shouldn't have beat you up,"

England spluttered, glaring at him.

"H-hold on, I did _not_ get 'beat up,'" he hissed, folding his arms over his chest and wincing.

"But, you've got a giant bruise on your-" America protested, a bit confused.

"One hit! They managed to sneak in one bloody hit!" England shouted, "But I won this bloody war, and they'd best remember it! I'm the _British Empire_ , and I am perfectly _fine_!" he added, leveling the younger nations with an emerald-colored glare.

"Right, right," America said as he joined Canada in slowly nodding.

"Now, if you two don't mind, I'm just going to have a kip," England said with an air of finality, stretching out onto the sofa with a pinched, painful expression.

America looked to his twin and motioned for him to follow, leading him upstairs to gather medical supplies. Some gauze, a towel, some smelly stuff England always cleaned his scrapes with, and a battered metal bowl.

"Here," he said to his twin as he handed the bowl over, "Could you go get some water from the pot in the kitchen?"

"Sure," Canada responded with a nod as he hurried off to complete said task. America sighed as he took his supplies and walked back down the hallway. It wasn't the first time England had come to his house with an injury, but it usually wasn't bad enough for him to show it. Really, America hardly knew it if he was hurting most of the time. He hid it quite well, preferring to tend to his wounds on his own so America wouldn't see.

But America knew him better than that, and as much as his older brother tried, America always found out eventually. He usually humored him once he knew, pretending not to notice the cringes or cautious hesitation as England walked. His pride meant a lot to him, and America wasn't about to hurt it.

"Doctor America to the rescue!" he proclaimed as he dashed into the living room and knelt down in front of the sofa.

"Hm?" England asked groggily, his arm flung over his eyes.

"I'm gonna fix you up," America elaborated with a grin. England moved his arm and blinked at him. A warm smile crept over his face as he looked America over. America beamed back at him; he loved it when England smiled. It didn't happen very often, especially since this whole war with France.

"You don't have to-" England protested.

"Nope! I'm the doctor!" America interrupted as he motioned for him to sit up, "And my assistant Canada will...uh, assist!" he added brightly as Canada entered the room with the bowl of water.

"Huh?" Canada asked.

"Nurse: get over here with that water," America ordered.

"...nurse?" Canada asked flatly as he padded over to him with the bowl, "How come I can't be the doctor?"

"Because _I'm_ the doctor," America explained matter-of-factly as he grabbed the towel and dunked it into the water, "All right, England, pull up your shirt,"

* * *

England dozed on the sofa, two little boys snuggled against his left side. "Doctor" America had fallen asleep about a half hour ago, with his brother following shortly behind. He smiled; although he had ended up mostly taking care of his injury himself, the fact that his colonies had wanted to help was endearing. They weren't such bad children, really. A bit wild, perhaps, but they were sweet.

He closed his eyes as America snored softly. It was good to know that England had someone in this godforsaken world that he could count on, someone loyal. He couldn't really make a judgment on Canada yet, what with his _upbringing_ , but he knew America fairly well. Really, England reasoned as he felt himself drifting off, America was the one loyal friend he could count on.

The one soul in this world who would never let him down.

* * *

Notes: The Seven Years' War was fought on two fronts: in the New World and in Europe. In North America, this conflict was dubbed the French and Indian War. The fallout resulted in a British victory, which conceded control of French Canada to the English. In Europe, Britain had allied with Prussia against France and Austria (among other nations). Fighting on two continents put an enormous strain on English military power, not to mention that it made colonists in America start to lose faith in the Brits when they refused to let colonists join the fight with France. In short, it was a mess. Good thing England had two adorable colonies to take care of him.


End file.
